


Downfall

by ember_firedrake



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I would punish you for your obstinacy if I thought it would do any good."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Grantaire's pupils had dilated wide, but his only outward reaction had been to take a long draw from his bottle—another challenge if ever there was one—and to whisper back, "I welcome you to make the attempt. Had you any designs to improve my lot, I'm certain I could withstand any such…punishment."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downfall

Enjolras should have recognized it sooner. It was there, in the way Grantaire had responded earnestly to his askance of a favor with an offer to polish his boots. It was there in the way Grantaire could be silenced not with biting words, but in simply taking a seat beside the man. And it was there—when Enjolras had been driven to frustration by Grantaire's constant cynicism and had pinned him roughly against the wall of an ally—when Grantaire had gone pliant and yielding against him. 

Enjolras tried not to think too much of it. Grantaire's reasons for remaining with them were his own, even when he clearly thought nothing of their cause. And while Enjolras knew no amount of scoffing, censure, or outright hostility would make Grantaire change his ways, there was an almost eagerness to please on his part when it came to any other directive that passed Enjolras' lips. Indeed, Enjolras wondered if all Grantaire's provocation had been with the aim to elicit this particular reaction.

That being—Enjolras leaning to whisper in Grantaire's ear after a particularly insubordinate comment, "I would punish you for your obstinacy if I thought it would do any good."

Grantaire's pupils had dilated wide, but his only outward reaction had been to take a long draw from his bottle—another challenge if ever there was one—and to whisper back, "I welcome you to make the attempt. Had you any designs to improve my lot, I'm certain I could withstand any such…punishment."

Enjolras was no fool—he knew that wasn't his true aim here. But reasons no longer seemed to matter, with Grantaire naked and bound to the bedframe. His eyes had fluttered shut at the tightening of the supple rope, dark eyelashes stark against flushed cheeks. That had been some time ago, as Enjolras hadn't touched Grantaire since. Instead he'd moved down the bed, stripped himself with efficiency and then worked first one slick finger and then two into his own body. And Grantaire could do nothing but watch, his irises a pale ring of blue surrounding black.

"Enjolras—" he breathed, the syllables grating out in a frustrated moan. " _Please._ "

But Enjolras was enjoying this too much to indulge Grantaire, letting out a hitched breath as he twisted his fingers deeper. Grantaire's cock twitched against his belly, leaking precome.

"Begging already, Grantaire?" Enjolras mocked, not bothering to hide his derision. "I thought you could withstand more. I should have known your words were hollow. Ever the hedonist." He punctuated his words with another twist of his fingers, his hips twitching from the movement.

Grantaire gritted his teeth and closed his eyes again, allowing his head to fall back on the pillow. His hands strained against the bonds holding them in place. Enjolras could almost see the word forming in his mind that would call this off, but it remained unuttered ( _Bonaparte_ —Grantaire had chosen it knowing how it would vex Enjolras). Pride won out. Grantaire relaxed the tension in his arms, letting out a slow breath that eased the tautness in the planes of his stomach. 

Enjolras enjoyed seeing Grantaire submit, the way his body yielded when he finally set aside his arguments. Enjolras just didn't know if he wanted that _yet_ , with the "punishment" barely begun. He wiped his fingers on a handkerchief and straddled Grantaire, taking care that only the insides of his thighs were in contact with the body beneath him. Then, leaning down, he whispered:

"I'm going to fuck myself on you now. But you are not to come, understand?"

His words carried weight, and he wanted Grantaire to understand this was what he had meant. This was the punishment Grantaire had _welcomed_. Enjolras intended to drive him mad and then leave him unfulfilled and hanging—exactly like how Grantaire so often made him feel. Grantaire could still back out, however. Enjolras would give him that opportunity. 

Grantaire was unusually calm as he took in the command. Enjolras expected him to rail against it, to thrash some more or curse out a "fuck you" (which Enjolras then fully intended to follow through with). Instead, Grantaire looked up at him with a peculiar expression that Enjolras couldn't place, and nodded.

Something about that look made Enjolras feel self-conscious, more than he ought to feel, with Grantaire the one tied up. He needed a hand on the situation once more. Speaking of…

Enjolras reached for the bottle of oil he'd set aside, pouring an amount into his palm and using it to slick Grantaire's cock. That produced a satisfactory reaction, as Grantaire let out a quick huff of breath and hitched his hips upwards. Then Enjolras was bracing himself, holding Grantaire steady as he bore down. He exhaled as Grantaire's cock breached him, but he ignored the twinge of pain until he was fully seated.

Looking at Grantaire again, it was worth it. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth agape in an enticing O. Enjolras shifted, rocking forward slightly but otherwise remaining mostly stationary. He would never admit he needed this time compose himself. The angle was something new, and sent sparks of pleasure along his spine even as his body adjusted to the stretch. This was about driving Grantaire mad, however, not the other way around.

He rocked again, lifting his hips higher each time he did so. Every downward thrust Grantaire's breathing grew more labored, his hands fidgeted and strained more against the ropes. He also grew more vocal, curses and groans spilling from his lips—though he wasn't telling Enjolras to stop.

Something about Grantaire's abandon—the way his desire and emotions were evident in every line of his body—loosed something within Enjolras. He moved, his pace frenzied, each thrust seeming to make something uncurl from deep within him. He was close—only a little longer would bring him to completion. He let his head fall back, baring his neck as he bore down again with his hips.

" _Enj—Enjolras_ ," Grantaire gasped out, desperate, "I ca—can't. I'm—"

Enjolras realized too late what Grantaire meant, as the cock within him pulsed. Grantaire's face was contorted in pleasurepain, his words interrupted by a moan. His arms had pulled the ropes taut as he strained against them. Enjolras drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. He wanted _so badly_ to follow Grantaire over that edge. But he had given Grantaire an instruction, and at least for the sake of these roles they sometimes played out, the transgression could not go ignored. 

Enjolras stilled while Grantaire's shudders subsided. His own cock was still hard, though its urgency had abated somewhat. He had an idea for that, however. He waited until Grantaire had settled, looking up at Enjolras with a face that was almost apologetic. 

Enjolras didn't say anything at first. He shifted his hips up, releasing Grantaire's softening cock. Then, bracing himself over Grantaire, he fisted one hand in his hair, the grip just tight enough to cause pain. His voice was calm and even as he spoke:

"How can a punishment do any good if you choose to defy me?"

Grantaire hadn't reacted to the grip on his hair except by a slight indrawn breath. His eyes were wide again, though, that unreadable expression back. 

"I'm sorry," was all he said. Enjolras had expected more sarcasm, maybe a biting remark that Enjolras didn't command him. That would make his next directive easier. Grantaire opened his mouth again, "Next time—"

"Next time? What gave you the impression I was finished with you?"

Grantaire's words cut off, an absurdly hopeful look on his face, considering what Enjolras was about to do. He shifted forward until his cock hung inches from Grantaire's mouth—that mouth that now hung open, expectant.

His hand still tangled in Grantaire's hair, he guided his hips forward until his cock passed Grantaire's lips. Grantaire seemed to immediately understand Enjolras' intent, as he relaxed his mouth, careful to keep his teeth covered. Enjolras thrust forward, gently at first but only to allow Grantaire to grow accustomed to the rhythm. He snapped his hips forward faster now, and still Grantaire took it with muffled moans, making no attempt to pull back even though the corners of his eyes watered. The hand clenched in his hair must have reached painful levels.

It was too much for Enjolras. How Grantaire, so vexing whenever they were among their peers with his cynicism and drinking habits, could give himself over so readily in situations like this. How he took it all without complaint, even as Enjolras fucked his mouth unremittingly. Enjolras could feel himself fraying inside, the building tension reaching its crest. He wouldn't come in Grantaire's mouth—no, Grantaire _wanted_ that. And this wasn't about giving Grantaire what he wanted.

Enjolras pulled back at the last moment, fisting his cock and holding it steady as his release painted Grantaire's face—his cheekbones, his jaw, across his mouth. Grantaire's eyes had fallen shut, his breathing ragged. His tongue darted out, tasting the come that dotted the corners of his mouth. Enjolras had to bite down on the inside of his own mouth at the way Grantaire looked, eyelashes fanned against his cheekbones, unashamed by the evidence of debauchery on his face. 

Grantaire opened his eyes, and Enjolras was arrested by the expression therein. He'd mistaken it as unreadable, but in truth he hadn't been able to recognize it in Grantaire's features. It was _reverence_. 

Enjolras swallowed, feeling suddenly bared in a way that had nothing to do with his nudity. Could it be that this—all of this—had been Grantaire's aim? Invite punishment knowing he would fail in some way, only to incur further retaliation? But why? Why take that risk?

Because Grantaire wanted his attention, he realized, recalling Grantaire's earlier words— _Had you any designs to improve my lot, I'm certain I could withstand any such…punishment_. Even if that attention was negative. Even if it was reproachful or degrading. But…Grantaire didn't seem humiliated.

It was only a theory. Enjolras had to be sure. He shifted forward again, holding his cock above Grantaire's mouth.

"Lick it clean," he said, his voice gentle this time. 

Grantaire's gaze was awed and wary, but he craned his neck, leaning towards the cock held above him. His tongue lapped out, tentative licks that became prolonged. He never once broke eye contact, and he didn't stop until Enjolras forced himself to pull away. 

Enjolras felt undone, ragged and frayed like a banner left too long in the breeze. The others' trust he was accustomed to, but this…this veneration, this _faith_ that he saw in Grantaire—he didn't know what to say. He had to do something, however, some gesture. 

Enjolras shifted to one side of Grantaire, leaning forward to release the slipknots. It took a moment—they'd been pulled tight by Grantaire's earlier thrashing. Once his wrists were free, Enjolras held them, massaging circulation back and making sure they'd sustained no injury. Then, before he lost his nerve, he kissed each palm.

Grantaire watched him throughout, warier now. "You don't—"

"Shhhh." Enjolras silenced him with another kiss, this time to his lips. He could taste the remnants of himself on that kiss. 

He reached for some spare cloth—his shirtsleeves were closest within reach—and used it to wipe the remaining mess from Grantaire's face. Grantaire closed his eyes as Enjolras wiped a stray drop above his eyebrow. Words seemed to escape the both of them, and Enjolras let the tenderness of his gestures speak for him. He placed another kiss on Grantaire's brow, then lay beside him on the bed. 

He couldn't imagine what it was to place so much faith in a single person. For him, the cause would always be most important—he was devoted to his ideals, and no person could ever stand in the way of that. But the admiration he'd seen in Grantaire…he only hoped he would prove himself worthy of it. And that it would not prove to be Grantaire's downfall.


End file.
